


mondays are for cleaning

by loserlesbian



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coming Out, F/M, Gay Richie Tozier, Good Parents Maggie & Wentworth Tozier, Implied Masturbation, M/M, POV Maggie Tozier, Richie Tozier Loves Eddie Kaspbrak, but not like that bad or anything, kind of invasion of privacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:53:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserlesbian/pseuds/loserlesbian
Summary: "Maggie stretched her arm farther, hoping she had got the worst of it, when her fingertips came in contact with a sleek feeling stack of paper, and immediately recognized it to be a magazine. Praying that it wasn’t some Playboy or some other vulgar nudie, she slowly pulled it out, her curiosity overcoming her knowledge that she should allow her son some privacy.She let out a sigh of relief when she read the title. It was just some Sports Illustrated magazine, but instead of the swimsuit edition, it was just the most recent college baseball edition. Maggie huffs a laugh, eyebrows raised. She had no idea Richie was interested in baseball, why hadn’t he said anything?"Maggie finds a copy of Sports Illustrated under Richie's bed while cleaning, and brings it up at dinner that night.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Maggie Tozier & Richie Tozier, Maggie Tozier/Wentworth Tozier
Comments: 36
Kudos: 382
Collections: The Loser’s Club <3





	mondays are for cleaning

**Author's Note:**

> more reddie. this idea came to me randomly one day and i furiously texted it to my cousin, and she bullied me into writing it. so. this is the most productive i've been all quarantine. 
> 
> sorry if there's any typos or anything, i've been over it a few times and had someone else read it but yknow. nobody's perfect haha. also apologies in advance for like any tense changes throughout the fic. i don't know how to stay in one tense. i'd also like to say that i don't know much about magazines, especially sports illustrated so i have no idea if there was a college baseball edition in 1991, or ever. just go with it. 
> 
> overall if you come across this, i hope you enjoy it!! thanks for all the comments on my last fic, they were all so sweet <3

Mondays are cleaning days for Maggie Tozier, she sighs to herself as she makes her way around the house. With Went at his office and Richie out god-knows-where with all his little friends, Maggie needed something to do to pass the time, so Mondays became the days of the week where she did the laundry, cleaned the bathrooms, and vacuumed the living room.

The old record player skips, and Carole King’s soft voice echoes through the house once again.

Maggie hip checks the door to her fifteen year old son’s bedroom, one hand holding the laundry basket to her other hip. She eyes the room warily, clothes thrown haphazardly on all surfaces of the room, comic books littering the floor, and dirty underwear piled around the hamper. It’s like they were tossed in the direction of where they’re expected to go, but after they were thrown the culprit didn’t care where they actually landed, which was most likely true.

As a mother, Maggie knew that it was best to let Richie learn how to take care of himself and his living space, but as an average human being, there was no way Maggie could continue to allow this room in her house look like this. Usually, she would just let Richie take care of it himself, and he would begrudgingly comply, but sometimes it would just become too much, and Maggie would have to take matters into her own hands.

Today was one of those days.

Maggie took a deep breath, and got to work.

She piled his dirty clothes into the basket, stacked his comics, put his clean laundry on his bed for him to put away later. Once she could finally see the carpet of his bedroom floor, Maggie braved the worst: the Forgotten Laundry Under The Bed.

Maggie crouched to the floor, her knees popping slightly. She winced, and reminded herself that she’s not 40 yet; she’s still got a year.

Holding her breath lightly, not even scolding herself for being slightly dramatic, Maggie reached under the bed, pulling out socks, underwear, and that orange and purple Hawaiian shirt that Richie had been looking for since February. She rolled her eyes at that one, not even surprised that it had been lost in the depths under his bed.

Maggie stretched her arm farther, hoping she had got the worst of it, when her fingertips came in contact with a sleek feeling stack of paper, and immediately recognized it to be a magazine. Praying that it wasn’t some Playboy or some other vulgar nudie, she slowly pulled it out, her curiosity overcoming her knowledge that she should allow her son some privacy.

She let out a sigh of relief when she read the title. It was just some _Sports Illustrated_ magazine, but instead of the swimsuit edition, it was just the most recent college baseball edition. Maggie huffs a laugh, eyebrows raised. She had no idea Richie was interested in baseball, why hadn’t he said anything?

Maggie places the magazine onto his bedside table, and resumes her Monday cleaning.

***

Maggie was taking the lasagna out of the oven when the front door opened, Wentworth’s loud, nasally voice echoing through the hallway.

“Oh, my lovely family, how I missed you!”

Maggie laughs as Richie’s voice from the living room yells out, “Ah, father, how I missed you!” in his Southern Belle Voice.

Went laughed, and replied in a Southern accent that Maggie knew Richie always envied. “Son, I can’t possibly begin to describe how much I missed ya while I was workin’ all day.”

Maggie took off her oven mitts and strode over to the entryway to the living room, barely catching her son bounce into his father’s side, wrapping his arms around his waist. She leaned against the wall, arms crossed over her chest, a small smile on her face. “Oh, Papa, when will I eva get to work alongside you?”

“Once ya get big an’ strong, maybe you’ll be able to join me out in the field. It’s dangerous work, checkin’ for cavities and pullin’ teeth!” Went’s briefcase dropped to the floor with a sharp _clang_ , and wrapped one arm around Richie while the other went up to his hair, ruffling the curly mess.

“All right, you cowboys, who’s ready for dinner?” Maggie asked, barely containing her laughter.

“Mom, we’re not cowboys—”

“Dinner smells lovely, dear, you’ve really outdone yourself. Is that lasagna I smell?”

Her laughter finally spilled over, her heart filling with love for her two most favorite boys in the world.

“Why, yes it is Went,” Maggie leans up to kiss his cheek as he walks by, hand lingering on his broad shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Ew, hello, your son is in the room?” Maggie glances over at Richie, his face scrunched up and tongue poking out in disgust.

“Ah, Rich, one day you and a lovely lady will kiss in front of your children, and you’ll see just how much fun it is to make them uncomfortable,” Went laughed. Maggie covered her smile with her hand.

Richie raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “I doubt that.”

Went shook his head and adjusted his glasses. “Whatever you say, Rich.”

A strange look flashed across Richie’s face before it returned to normal, a big grin stretching across his features. “Well, Mama, I’m starved! I haven’t eaten a single thing since Eddie gave me his peanut M&Ms after school!”

Maggie rolled her eyes as she placed the pan of lasagna in the center of the table. “Well, it’s a good thing I made a whole lotta lasagna then, huh?”

“Ah, hell yeah it is, Ma!” Richie scooped the first slice of lasagna onto his plate, immediately ready to dig in.

“Uh-uh, did you wash your hands?” Maggie asked, one eyebrow raised.

Richie paused, fork lifted halfway to his lips. He looked at her over the top of his glasses. Maggie waited for his answer, and when he took a little too long to respond she sent him off to the bathroom. By the time he got back, Went had already launched himself into a story about some patient who refused to open their mouth and to let him perform the root canal.

They made small talk, Went about his day at work, Richie about his day at school. Apparently some girl at school has a crush on Eddie, and Bill says that it’ll be any day now when she asks him out. Richie’s was oddly displeased by this.

All this talk about their day reminded Maggie of hers, and when there was a lull in the conversation she spoke up.

“Richie dear, I found that purple and orange Hawaiian shirt you were looking for.”

Richie made an excited noise in the back of his throat and swallowed his food. “Really? Where was it?”

“Under your bed, along with all those missing socks.”

Richie slammed his hand on the table. “I swear I looked there! What the fuck!”

“Language,” Maggie said, cutting her lasagna.

“What were you doing in my room anyway?” Richie asked, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, just a little spring cleaning. Your room’s a mess, hon. I couldn’t even see your floor.”

Richie rolled his eyes and pushed his glasses up his nose. “I was gettin’ around to that, I swear.”

He takes a bite of his food. He was clewing slowly when Maggie says: “Speaking of things under your bed, I didn’t know you were into baseball?”

Richie narrows his eyes, brows furrowing. “Huh? I’m not, it’s fu— pretty boring.”

“Oh, it’s just that I found a _Sports Illustrated: College Baseball_ edition under there.”

Richie, who had been swallowing his food, jolted so hard he fell into a coughing fit, fist slamming into his chest.

Went also started, coughing once, clearing his throat a few times as he placed his glass of water back onto the table. Maggie raised an eyebrow.

“Everybody okay?” She asked, partly amused, partly concerned.

Richie lunged for his water, gulping it down in seconds. “I, uh…” Is all he said before he shoved another large bite of lasagna into his mouth.

Maggie was about to scold him for eating too fast when Went cleared his throat again. “Mags, this lasagna is truly incredible, really. Where’d you learn to cook like this?”

She ignored him, far more concerned about her son and husband’s reactions to the magazine in question. “Is something wrong? Did I say something?”

“Nothing, dear, you know what I overheard today about Lydia Carlton today—”

Richie was as red as a fire truck, eyes wide and staring intently at the tablecloth. Both his hands were bracketing his plate, one squeezing his fork and the other curled around the tablecloth. Maggie could see his knuckles turning white.

“Richie, sweetie, you don’t have to be embarrassed, it’s just baseball. You could’ve told me, I don’t mind if you join the team.”

Richie only clenched his knuckles harder. Maggie was afraid he wasn’t even breathing.

“Mags—”

“Richie, really, it’s okay—”

“MAGS, HONEY YOU WON’T _BELIEVE_ THE LIZARD I SAW WALKING OUT OF WORK TODAY!” Went all but yelled, eyes wide, an almost maniacal grin on his face. It startled Maggie, making her jump slightly and turning over to her husband.

“O-Oh?” She let out subconsciously. It was more than enough for Went, throwing himself in another story. Her eyes drifted back to Richie, who finally released his hold on the tablecloth, and slowly went back to his food. His eyes were unfocused as he ate, face still as red as Maggie’s ever seen.

He’s silent for the rest of the meal.

Maggie felt a little guilty for bringing it up; clearly Richie felt he didn’t have the skills to join the baseball team, and he was embarrassed for even being interested in the sport.

She brings the subject back up later that night as she crawled into bed beside Went, who was reading some novel someone at the office recommended to him.

“So, about that magazine…” Maggie started, and Went let out a deep sigh, placing the book onto the bedside table.

“Maggie, my love, why don’t you just drop this?”

She gave a frustrated huff, dropping her arms to the bed. “Why are you both acting so weird about this? It’s just a sport! I think it’s good that he’s interested in some physical activity!”

Went barked out a surprised laugh, placing a hand on his stomach and the other partially covering his face. “Oh, I bet he’s gettin’ _some_ physical activity, alright.”

Maggie shook her head, confusion and frustration painting her features. “The hell does that mean?”

Went’s laughter slowed, and he put a hand up, palm facing forward. “Nothing, sweetie, ignore me.”

Maggie flicked Went on the side of his head. “Went!” She whined.

He laughed, gently grabbing Maggie’s hand and kissing her knuckles. “Listen, Mags, I know you didn’t have any brothers, so I’ll let this slide. But, for future reference, if you find a magazine under a young man’s bed, _do not_ ask about it. In fact, don’t even look at it.”

Went kissed her sweetly, before folding his glasses and flipping the lamp off. “Goodnight, Maggie baby.”

Maggie felt unsatisfied but she let it go for the night, cuddling into the mattress, letting Went pull her to his chest and dropping a chaste kiss onto her shoulder.

***

Waking to a parched throat and a dry mouth, Maggie extracted herself from Went’s arms and tip-toed down the stairs of a cool glass of water.

She made back upstairs without making a single peep, passing Richie’s room as she crept back to her and Went’s. If it hadn’t been for the quietness of the dead of night, Maggie would’ve missed the muffled sobs and sniffles coming from behind her son’s door.

Maggie’s eyes widened and her heart clenched, aching at the sound of her son’s cries. It’s been ages since she’s seen or heard Richie cry. The last time it had happened, Richie had timidly entered her and Went’s bedroom, silent tears cutting across his flushed cheeks and a fearful look on his face. Richie had been thirteen at the time.

A hand placed on her heart, Maggie carefully creaked the door open. “Richie?”

The sobs ceased, and a loud sniff came from the direction of his bed, where Richie was curled up under his comforter and his face smushed into his pillow. Maggie stepped closer.

“Baby, are you alright?”

Nothing. Maggie waiting, ears straining to hear anything from his direction that would help her figure out what was wrong.

Maggie came to the realization that Richie was pretending to be asleep.

She came to the side of his bed, sitting down on edge, careful not to startle him. “I heard you from out in the hall. You can talk to me, sweetie.”

After a brief moment, Maggie saw movement, ruffled black curls moving back and forth, a small shake of the head.

“No?” Maggie asked softly. She lifted a hand, ever-so-gently smoothing the back of his hair. “Can you tell me why?”

Another shake of the head.

Maggie sighed. “Hmm. Was it a bad dream?”

A sniff and a tiny nod. A smile tugged on Maggie’s lips.

“It’s okay, you can tell me, hon.” Richie was still, and for a moment Maggie thought he wasn’t going to answer, until he turned his head to where his cheek was pressed into the pillow, and Maggie could see his red rimmed eyes.

“It,” Richie’s scratchy voice cut through the still air. He cleared his throat, and Maggie wished she still had her glass of water. “It’s hard to explain.”

Maggie pushed a wild curl out of his face. “If you talk, you might feel better." She swiped the tip of her finger under his visible eye, wiping the tears off his cheek.

Richie let out a shaky breath. He shifted, pushing himself up to lean against the headboard. He tucked his legs to his chest and rested his chin on his knees. He looked so, so small. Suddenly, Maggie was brought back to a simpler time, where all Richie wanted to do was run around outside and dig in the mud. Little sneakers puttering around, tripping over untied shoelaces and scrapes and bruises coloring his pale skin.

Maggie looks at the boy in front of her— no, _young man_ in front of her— and wonders if he is still as carefree as he used to be. If he’s as carefree as he presents himself to be. The world can be a harsh place, especially to boys who are as loud and flamboyant as Richie is.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Maggie snapped out of her contemplative manner. Her eyes focused to see Richie staring back at her, eyes filled with freshly formed tears.

“Mom,” he rasped. “What if… there was something about me that you didn’t like?”

Maggie furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?” She asked softly. Something about _Richie_ that she didn’t like? Something about her _son_ , her _baby_ , that she didn’t like? The thought was foreign to her; how could there be a single thing about Richie that Maggie would not like?

He could be crude, yes, and sometimes the way he talks about women to his friends worries her, but deep down she knows that he doesn’t mean it. He’s just putting on a show for his friends.

“What if there was something… that I can’t change about myself? And you don’t like that thing?”

A flash of pain struck through Maggie’s chest at the thought. Richie thought that there was something about him that would make her not love him anymore? Maggie thought she was going to cry, but stopped herself. She couldn’t cry, not when Richie was already shedding a few tears of his own.

Richie buried his face into his knees, clearly too upset to continue. That’s okay, Maggie decided. It was her turn to talk.

“Richie, baby, can you look at me?” She pushed his bangs out of his face. His eyes drifted up to hers, but were unfocused, due to the tears or his bad eyesight, Maggie didn’t know. She plucked his glasses up from his bedside table and slipped them onto his face. “I want you to be able to see me,” Maggie started, leaning over to switch on the dim light of the lamp next to his bed. “When I tell you this.”

She moved so that she was next to Richie. She pressed her shoulder against his and took the hand closest to her.

“I love you,” Maggie said, hoping she was able to put all her love in those three little words. “And nothing can change that. Nothing. Carrying somebody in your belly for nine months holds a special kind of love, sweetheart.”

Richie sniffed. “But… what if… what if I can’t…” He trailed off. Richie was hiding his face again, though Maggie could see a glimpse of frustration across his features.

“Can’t what?” Maggie prompted gently.

Richie sighed, moving on to a different tactic. “Tonight, when Dad said something about finding a nice girl… What if I don’t want that?” Richie bit his lip, fear present on his face.

“You’re still young, dear, when you get older—”

“No, Mom,” Richie huffed. “I mean— I don’t _want_ that because I want something else, but I can’t have that because people… people don’t like that.”

Maggie’s heart dropped as she realized what her son was telling her. Of course— the magazine— Eddie—

“I’m gay, Mama.” His voice broke when he addressed her. He chanced a glance at her, only to cast his eyes down immediately after he saw her looking back at him. Maggie bit back a heartbroken sigh.

“Richie…” She paused. She wasn’t sure how to continue. Of course she didn’t care that he was gay. Of course. She still loved him just much as she first held him in her arms at the hospital. How was she supposed to convey that to her son, scared out of his mind, afraid of rejection and being known? God, Maggie had never been good with words.

She took a deep breath and opened her mouth, trying to will words of comfort out, but nothing came. Richie sniffled, loud and wet. “I’m sorry.”

Richie’s damp eyes snapped to her. “W-What?”

Maggie pulled him to her, pressing his face to her neck. Instinctively, his body curled around hers, like a child in need of comfort from his mother.

That is what he is, really.

“I’m sorry, Rich, I’m sorry if I ever said or did anything that made you afraid to tell me. Baby, I love you, you’re…” Maggie took an unsteady breath. Her voice trembled. “You’re my baby… I-I love you, so, so much. Richie, I need you to know that. I _need_ you to.”

The tears were flowing freely between the two, Maggie’s more silent than Richie’s messy sobs. She cradled him to her chest, subconsciously rocking them back and forth. A soft kiss was pressed into his outrageous curls.

Maggie rested her cheek on the top of Richie’s head. “Honey, I could never dislike you for loving someone. Love is the greatest thing we’ve got, and to hate someone just ‘cause they love different from you takes away from what love really is. Love is meant to connect us, to make us feel happy and safe. People can be cruel, I know this, but I need you to know that your father and I will never be upset or angry with you for loving someone.”

Richie’s body shook violently as his tears poured out thicker and louder. He gripped Maggie tighter, clutching the cloth of her nightgown desperately. Maggie’s heart _ached_ for her son. She thought about all the self hatred and fear Richie’s been feeling for however long he’s known this about himself.

She held him back, just as tightly.

“How long have you known?” She asked softly. Sue her, she was curious. “What dashing young man made your heart all fluttery?”

Richie snorted through his tears. “I’m a guy, Mom. My heart doesn’t _flutter_.”

Maggie smiled. “Sure it doesn’t, sweetheart.”

The room was quiet again, save for Richie’s hushed cries. He hadn’t responded in so long that Maggie thought he was going to answer, when oh-so-quietly his rasped voice said: “Marty McFly from _Back To The Future_.”

Maggie let out a surprised laugh. “I wondered why you always wanted to watch that movie. I thought you just thought time travel was cool.”

“It is cool!” Richie exclaimed. “But, y’know… it doesn’t hurt that the main guy is kinda cute.”

She felt Riche’s face heat up from where it was pressed into her neck. Maggie bit back a watery grin. Something about that Marty McFly reminded Maggie of another fiery brunette Richie was fond of.

“So…” Maggie said, dripping with saccharine teasing. Richie lifts his head a bit, eyebrows furrowed from the change in tone. “Anyone at school make you feel like how you feel when you watch Marty McFly?”

Richie’s eyes widen, and his already pink face turning a bright tomato red. He fumbles for words, throat working as he swallows roughly. Maggie couldn't contain her smile.

“Mom,” Richie eventually whines. “I-I don’t— The thing is— ah!” He rolls off her lap, onto his back, and hides his burning face in his hands.

Maggie laughs. “Rich, it’s my job as a mother to tease you about your little crushes, I have to know now!”

Richie mumbled something into his hands, and Maggie could make out a vague mess of words that sounded like _not a crush_. Maggie sucked her bottom lip in an effort to hide her smile. How could Richie ever think she wouldn’t love him?

Richie peaks between his fingers. “I can’t, Ma. I…” He scrubs his hands over his face, pushing his glasses up his forehead. Maggie leans down to right them.

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Maggie says, pushing her hand through his hair. “Can I say something though?”

Richie’s magnified eyes filtered across her face. Maggie pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll find someone, Rich. Maybe not right now, but someday. Your heart is so big, Richie, it deserves to have someone love it back. To love _you_ back.”

He sniffled again, eyes watering, but he kept the tears from falling. He cleared his throat.

“Jeez, Ma, you really seem to have a whole lotta faith in me,” He chuckled. Richie sat up, and crossed his legs, hanging his head. Stared at his fists in his lap. “I don’t know, I’m kinda an asshole.”

Maggie rolled her eyes, but chose to ignore his comment. “Eddie likes you.”

Richie’s head snapped up. “Wha— I don’t— We-We’ve never—” Richie continued to stumble over his words, face a worryingly dark shade of red. Maggie’s never seen him blush so much in one night. She decided to take pity on him.

“I didn’t say anything,” She smirks. Okay, so maybe not _that much_ pity. “And I couldn’t help but notice a little resemblance between Eddie and Marty McFly.”

Richie sputters. “Because they both have brown hair! A-And short! That’s it! They’re not—”

Maggie snorts. “Well, Marty never backs down from a fight… And I recall someone telling me the exact same thing about Eddie.”

Richie glared at her. “Shut up,” He muttered. Maggie pulled him into another tight hug.

“It’s okay if you like him, hon,” She said into his hair. “He’s a nice boy. Good for you.”

Richie’s shoulders sag in her arms. “Does Dad know?”

Maggie pulled away and ruffled his curls. “After that little stunt you pulled at dinner, I think he’s got a feeling.”

“Little stunt _I_ pulled? _You_ brought it up!” Maggie’s laughter filled the room. She figured at this point they had woken Went, and was up in bed, waiting for her return.

Her eyes drifted to his nightstand, where she had placed the magazine after cleaning under his bed. The magazine was mysteriously missing.

“I see you’ve returned it to its rightful place?” Maggie joked.

Richie, cheeks aflame, violent shook his head. “I couldn’t even look at it after dinner! I had to throw it away! You ruined baseball for me!”

“Baseball, huh? Nothing to do with those little uniforms they wear?”

“Mom!”

God, this kid. He’s so easy to mess with. She loves him so fucking much, and Maggie doesn’t swear often.

“Hey, I get it! I used to try to get your father to play in high school, but alas, he doesn’t have an athletic bone in his body.”

“God, Mom, ew!”

Maggie knocked her knuckles against the top of the nightstand, smiling fondly. “I love you, baby. Goodnight.” She pushed his hair out of his face, and plucked his glasses on his face. After folding them up and placing them on the table, she flicked the lamp off.

She made her way back to her and Went’s bedroom, lingering behind Richie’s closed door for only a moment.

Just as she suspected, Went was awake when she got back, though the lights were still out. She was surprised at first, as he appeared to still be fast asleep, but as soon as she tucked herself back into bed, Went wrapped her into his arms and grunted out, “Everything okay?”

Maggie grinned and hummed. “Everything’s just fine, Wentworth. Go back to sleep.”

Another grunt. A kiss on her neck. Snores. Maggie stifled a laugh, and snuggled into her husband’s arms, letting sleep wash over her.

***

Maggie opened the door the next morning to see none other than Eddie Kaspbrak, adorned in a pale baby blue polo shirt and knee length khaki shorts, shoes tied in neat little bows and hair combed to perfection. He looked like such a sweet boy, the kind of kid who attends church with his mother on Sunday mornings and sings along with all the hymns.

Maggie would assume he was one of those boys if she’d never seen the way he acts around Richie. The kid’s mouth is worse than his. His mother would probably have a stroke if she knew.

“Good morning, Mrs. Tozier!” Eddie chirped, hands tightening on his backpack straps.

“Good morning, Eddie,” Maggie smiled. She turned to angle her voice into the kitchen. “Richie, Eddie’s here!”

A _clank!_ came from the direction of the kitchen, and Maggie winced. She was going to have to remind him, again, not to just drop his dishes in the sink. He dashed down the hallway, picking his backpack up from the floor. “Eddie Spaghetti! Ready to rock and roll?”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Please don’t ever say that again, you sound like a dad.”

“I can be your daddy, if you want,” Richie winks. Maggie sighed as Eddie scrunched his nose.

“Do you have to be this gross at 8 in the morning?”

“Ah, Spaghetti, but the Trashmouth doesn’t stop for nobody! Not even the earliest of mornings!”

Maggie tugs him down to smack a kiss onto his temple. “Behave, and please stop by here to let me know if you’re heading anywhere after school, okay?”

Richie groans, and wipes where she kissed him. “Fine,” He sighs, like it physically pains him to answer. Teenagers.

She ruffles his hair, and Richie immediately pats it down, as if there was a style to that mop on his head. He bounces out of the house, wrapping an arm around Eddie while the latter scolds him for not tying his shoelaces.

From where she stands in the doorway, Maggie can see Richie with a fond look on his face as he watches Eddie pick up his bike from the grass, blabbering on about last night’s homework and it’s level of difficulty. Jesus, how could she not have seen it before? The boy looks at Eddie like he hung the moon and all the stars in the sky.

They take off, laughing and hurdling insults at each other. Maggie shut the door, and padded back to the kitchen.

She checked a glance in the sink, checking if Richie finally broke one of her porcelain bowls, and when she was satisfied he hadn’t, poured herself a second cup of coffee and sat next to her husband, who was reading this morning’s paper.

“Richie make a fool of himself in front of Eddie again, dear?” He asked, chewing up a bite of bacon.

Maggie hummed. “Yes, but I’m afraid Eddie finds him quite charming.”

Went laughed. “Those two. Kind of reminds me of us when we were younger, don’t you think?”

Maggie slips her hand into Went’s, which had been holding the other side of the newspaper. He lowers it to give her his full attention, gripping her smooth, small hand back. Maggie always loved how her hands looked compared to Went’s large ones, it gave her butterflies, like she was seventeen all over again.

“Let’s see, an idiot with a loud mouth and a case full of jokes and an unimpressed but fond best friend? The Tozier boys seem to have a type.”

Went pushed his glasses up his nose, another thing the Tozier boys have in common, and leaned in for a quick peck on the lips. “Is that a problem?” He murmured, inches away from Maggie’s face.

“Definitely not.”

Later, when Maggie was strolling through the grocery store, she came across the magazine stand. She paused, leaning down taking a closer look.

There was a summer addition of the local department store’s catalog resting among _People_ and _Time_ magazine. Maggie lifted it from where it stood, flipping through the pages. Summer was creeping close, with it being April, and school coming to an end in about a month.

She stopped at the swimsuits, taking note of a few of the women’s ones, but not really interested completely, as there’s no local pool here in Derry. She stopped at the men’s section though, snickering to herself.

It would be a little much of Maggie to purchase the catalog, and subtly place it on Richie’s bed, now wouldn’t it? Just as a late birthday gift?

Maggie put the magazine back, barely containing her giggles. She’d never hear the end of it if she did.

**Author's Note:**

> scream to be about reddie at my tumblr, all-dead-rock-show, if you'd like!!


End file.
